


Ghost Sex

by Murf1307



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Ghost Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which gay love literally pierces the veil of death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Sex

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just sad ghost sex. There is no plot or purpose. I am very sorry.

Ed never says anything — the first time, he’s sure he’s hallucinating, that he’s finally so drunk he’s seeing things.

But the EMF in the corner’s going wild, and part of him doesn’t  _want_  to believe it, but he can see a vague outline of  _something_  approaching the bed.  And only not believing it keeps him from stopping what he’s doing.  In fact, his drunken disbelief just makes his hand move faster over his cock, as if coming will clear his head and make the false phantom disappear.

He doesn’t whisper the name on his lips, can’t — because saying it would make it real.

There’s half a whisper in his ear, something vague around the idea of  _please_ , as if the ghost is asking permission.

Ed’s too far gone from whiskey and lust to do anything but nod.

He feels a weight that can’t be there settle over him, feels fingers not his own on his dick, and when his own hand falls away the sensation doesn’t stop.  There’s a scent in the air that makes Ed’s throat tighten even as his hips buck up into nothing.

Because this isn’t happening — even though there’s a flash of camouflage for a moment, even though there’s vanilla in the air — this can’t be happening.

Ed’s a hunter now, he knows better than this.

Ghosts don’t come to people who they loved, don’t straddle them to get them off at four a.m., don’t pull long, bone-wracking orgasms out of them.

But Ed comes, on his stomach and the sheets and on something invisible, and it’s like that sells it, like that breaks through everything, and Ed screws his eyes shut, throat choked up, and whispers,  _Corbett._

 _i’m here,_  he thinks he hears.

But he still can hardly believe it.


End file.
